


The Rules

by QianLan



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Pre-Rogue One, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 19:45:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9087547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QianLan/pseuds/QianLan
Summary: When you’re a spy in a relationship, the rules are there to make sure that no one gets hurt.
But when your heart is involved, someone is going to get hurt.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A meditation on loved ones left behind.

 

Cassian sat at the bar nursing his drink.  He couldn’t help feeling nervous—this was an Imperial-friendly bar, and even its non-Imperial patrons weren’t the nicest of beings—but he forced himself to ignore it.  This was where they met; that was part of the rules, that was how he made all of this work.

 

A polished mirror adorned the wall behind the bartender and Cassian studied it, watching the other customers wander about the place.  He got lost in the shapes and movements and was genuinely surprised when a hand touched his shoulder and a voice whispered, from just above his left ear, “Been here long?”

 

Cassian smiled but didn’t turn to greet the other man.  “About an hour,” he said, cocking his head to the empty barstool beside him. 

 

“How far ahead are you then,” the other man asked.

 

Cassian studied the drink in his hand.  “Only about three and a half,” he said.  Cassian then finished off the drink.  “Four.”

 

The man waved the bartender over.  “Another one for the gentleman and five shots of the same for me.”  The bartender looked at the man, frowning, and waited until Cassian nodded his consent before marching off to dutifully fetch the drinks.

 

“Want to tell me about the early start, Cass?”

 

“Not right now.”

 

“Fair enough.”  The other man forced a smile.  “So, tell me, what’s the temperature of the bar tonight?”

 

Cassian looked back into the mirror.  “Two Mandalorians trying to hustle a Duros.  Won’t happen.  He’s onto them.  A human romancing a Twi’lek, who isn’t interested.  Some from our side and some from the other.  Wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a brawl in the next hour or so.”

 

The bartender delivered the drinks.  The other man turned to face the room, his back to the bar.  “What about the group in the corner?” he asked, leaning in to Cassian.

 

“What about them?”  Cassian stared down at his drink.

 

“What’s their deal?” he asked, downing his first shot in one go.

 

Cassian sighed.  “They’re planning their escape.”

 

“Escape?”  The man reached for his second shot.

 

“They can read what’s about to happen, and they’re figuring out how to get out of the way.”

 

The man finished shot two and picked up shot three.  “Out of the way of the brawl here tonight or the bigger brawl that’s coming?”

 

“Both,” Cassian said, studying the alcohol in his glass, swirling it around.  Cassian then turned to look at the other man for the first time since they’d started talking.  “They know that neutral status isn’t going to mean much in a few weeks.”

 

The other man nodded and reached for shot four.  Cassian clinked his glass against the other man’s.  “To your health.”

 

“To your health.” 

 

Cassian took a slow sip as the man downed his shot.

 

The man licked his lips, feeling a bit looser than when he’d entered the bar.  He stared at Cassian and frowned.  “What say we get out of here before this mood of yours takes over completely?”

 

“Sounds good,” Cassian said.  “Finish your drink.”  He finished off his drink as the man downed shot number five.  Cassian offered up a small smile.  “You’re going to be worthless in about twenty minutes.”

 

“I doubt it will take that long,” the man said, chuckling.

 

“Then we’d better get going.”  Cassian nodded at the bartender who nodded back; Cassian quickly made his way to the back door of the establishment.  The other man followed closely.  “Someday you’re going to tell me how it is you never have to pay in there.”

 

“No,” Cassian said, “that’s a secret I’ll be taking to my grave.”  He winced.  He’d intended it to be a quip, but these days, there was no telling what the next mission might bring.  “Come on,” he said, grabbing the other man’s hand and moving into the alley. 

 

They moved quietly through the back alleys and then the crowded streets of the market.  Soon enough, they entered a non-descript building just off the main thoroughfare of the city, quickly going up two flights of stairs before Cassian put his hand on the scanner to a room.  It beeped and the door slid open.  They moved inside.

 

“Get the lights,” Cassian said quietly, moving to the far wall, double checking the lock on the window and pulling the curtains closed.

 

The other man stood smiling in the doorway.  “You look like hell,” he said.

 

“I feel like hell,” Cassian answered.  He stretched his neck.  “It’s been a long week.”

 

“Me too.”

 

“About to get longer,” Cassian added.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“That’s why I’m here,” Cassian said, hoping it wasn’t too mercenary a thing to say.

 

The other man smiled a sad smile.  “Of course.  You never come here without a reason.”  He took in a long breath.  “But no business talk, remember?”

 

“No business talk,” Cassian repeated. 

 

The other man could see something was bothering Cass.  “Unless…”

 

“That’s the rule.  And it’s a good rule.”

 

“You think so?”

 

“I think it’s what’s keeps this going.”

 

“But…”

 

“But what,” Cassian asked.  “You want to tinker with things now?”

 

“No, but something is clearly bothering you and if I had to guess—”

 

“Then, you’d be breaking the rules.”

 

“Fine,” the man said, pulling off his jacket.  “Then, how about this: you seem stressed, and I can guess why and I just want to say that no matter what happens—”

 

“Don’t finish that statement.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Just don’t finish it.”  Cassian walked over to him and pulled the man’s face close to his.  “No goodbyes.  No apologies.  No declarations.  That’s the only way this works,” he whispered before kissing the man lightly. 

 

The other man hated the rules.  In the beginning, they had made sense—both men led dangerous lives and from time to time, they supplied each other with information, which meant that from time to time, politics necessarily intruded onto their relationship—but this little thing of theirs had been going on for nearly two years now, and given the rumblings he’d been hearing about what the Empire had planned, chances were good this was going to be the last time they were going to be able to see each other for a long time. 

 

But the man knew better than to continue the argument—Cass loved his blasted rules—so he closed his eyes and tried to focus on Cassian—how it felt to hold him in his arms, the smell of his hair, the taste of his lips.  He deepened the kiss and desperately tried to commit Cassian to memory, scared that soon, that might be all he had of him.

 

**# # # #**

 

The next morning, Cassian awoke before the alarm they’d set.  He spent several minutes just watching the other man sleep.  The steady in and out of his breathing comforted Cassian.  He reached over and lightly touched the man’s hair. 

 

For a moment, he let his mind drift.  He thought about what it could’ve been like, if they’d met under different circumstances.  If there wasn’t a rebellion.  If there wasn’t a war.

 

_If there were no rules…_

 

Cassian sighed and looked at the chrono next to the bed.  The alarm would be going off soon.  _Can’t face the questions_ , he thought.  He got up and dressed as quietly as possible. 

 

He stopped and stared at the man, shaking his head.  _There’s no point in wishing it was any different._   He walked over and pressed a quick kiss to the man’s shoulder.  “Love you,” he whispered.  

 

The man opened his eyes as the door clicked shut.  “Love you too, Cass.”

 

**# # # #**

 

Two days later, the man went back into the bar and left a datachip with the bartender.  “You know who it’s for.”

 

The bartender nodded.

 

It was against the rules, but he had a feeling. 

 

There were rumors about a new weapon, something that could destroy entire cities, possibly even entire worlds.  And while he was friendly to the Alliance, he wasn’t a part of it.  This was the only way he knew to safely contact Cass.  And every fiber in his being told him he should contact Cass.

 

A few days later, he heard about Scarif.  Then, Alderaan and the Battle of Yavin. 

 

_Cass wouldn’t have been on Alderaan.  But…_   The man couldn’t help the feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he had to hold out hope. 

 

So, he waited.

 

And every few weeks, he found himself back at the bar. 

 

And every few weeks, the bartender would shake his head.

 

After a year, he knew—deep down in his soul, he knew—but he kept visiting the bar anyway.  By then, it had become a habit.

 

It was there one night that he heard two beings talking in hushed tones about joining the Rebel Alliance.  He smiled as he finished his drink.  They were kids with grand ambitions about saving the galaxy.  He shook his head.  When most beings thought of the Rebels, they thought about soldiers and pilots—a ragtag military organization of people _doing the right thing_.  They didn’t think about the network of spies and informants and the beings who got their hands dirty for a living.  _Like Cass_ , he thought.

 

_Like me._

 

He closed his eyes. 

 

Cass’s voice was drifting in from the past: “If we do this, there have to be rules.  The things I do, the work, it comes first.  It has to, and that doesn’t mean that I don’t want this.  It just means that—”

 

He’d interrupted, saying, “It’s bigger than us.”

 

Cass had smiled that sweet smile of his.  “Exactly.” 

 

The man tried to latch onto that memory of Cass’s smile, to keep it fresh in his mind, but after a few minutes, it faded away.

 

He finished his drink.  He set the empty glass down on the bar, tapping the rim with his fingers.

 

He knew what he had to do.

 

He motioned for the bartender.  There were tears in his eyes, but he kept his voice steady.  “I don’t think I’ll be coming back.”  The bartender nodded but didn’t say anything, so the man continued, “For what it’s worth, I don’t think he’s ever coming back either, but if he does, tell him I finally joined up.”

 

The bartender smiled.  “He’d like that.”

 

“Yeah,” the man said as he felt around for some credits.  “What do I owe you?”

 

“It’s on the house,” the bartender said, moving towards his other customers.

 

“Thanks,” the man said.

 

The bartender held up a hand in a wave and said, “May the force be with you.”

 

The man smiled.  “May the force be with you too.” 

 

He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets as he headed out into the night.  _And may the force be with you, Cassian Andor, wherever you might be._

 

 


End file.
